


My Neighbor

by aliengirlguy



Series: Harry Potter Crossovers [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Adventure, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Romance, Slice of Life, Some angst, Some humour, Write as I go/no plan., drabblish here and there sometimes, mostly Stargate-verse, out of order episodes, skipped episodes, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliengirlguy/pseuds/aliengirlguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning from SGC, Daniel meets his new neighbor. Warning: A few mentions of straight people, but don't worry they aren't a big part of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am experimenting with ths fandom crossover again. there is no definite pairings so far, though likely there will be much later on. I was inspired by "Nobody Said it Would be Easy" by I-am-a-slash-addict on fanfiction.net. So i thought i would try my hand at a nieghbour!Harry fic, though in this one its an apartment building, and Daniel instead of O'Neal, and Harry is younger in this. plot is totally different though. the idea of Harry as a neighbor to a main character in the crossover is i-am-a-slash-addict's. 
> 
> I don't know who I am pairing Harry with, but it will likely be a male character.

Chapter 1

Harry breathed in the honey sweetened steam of his early morning Earl Grey as he watched the first fine rays of gold and orange touch the sky with the first tinges of dawn. Before him, a small city was bathed in the warm light, setting fire to windows and warming the copious trees that shared space with dry grass and slick asphalt.

Harry mused that the view, particularly with the stunning mountain vista in the distance, was rather worth the fact that the Goblins had almost all the decision making when it came to deciding almost all aspects of his new life during the arduous three months that he had been stuck in the bank while he forked over a hefty chunk of gold to have them erase the very existence of one Harry James Potter.

Harry smirked when he thought about the various dusty dungeon basements Dumbledore was likely still scrounging through in the houses of, most likely highly offended, Dark families of great political clout right now while his precious boy-who-lived enjoyed his tea in his new loft apartment on the 10th floor in Colorado Springs all away across the pond in the United States.

Harry's smile slipped as his thoughts strayed to the faces of those he had left behind who had been friends  and pseudo family who were also searching for him as well. A vein of thought that he often meandered into during his early morning breakfast beverage.

Harry sighed. They would not have understood, he reminded himself, even if he had been allowed to contact them just once to let them know that he was alright. They would likely think him a traitor for what he had agreed to do, what he had already done.

Not that he could blame them really, he was a traitor after all.

That would be one of his regrets, not saying goodbye; but in the end, he had come to terms with his decision, and through it, he was free. Free to live however he wanted to live.

Harry turned to his rather tastefully decorated apartment and grimaced. He had not been allowed to take anything with him except his new wand, his transferred money, the paperwork for his new identity, and a set of plain black cloths on his back. The risk of his old things possibly holding a cleverly hidden tracking spell was to great, and he had lost his treasured possessions to a magic proofed family vault deep in the guts of Gringotts.

The Goblins had also said that it would also make the break from his old life that much harder if he held onto them anyway. Every time he had complained they reminded him that it had to be done completely and with absolute 100% commitment. That had been a particularly painful process, particularly when it came to Hedwig, his wand, and the photo album with his parents and the marauders in it. At least Hedwig was in a better place, living a cozy life in an owl sanctuary in Albania. The only thing he had not been able to rid himself of was his invisibility cloak. There was a deep family magic that tied the cloak to those of Potter blood. He had instead placed it into a magically sealed box and buried it to the back of his closet in his new room under strong enchantments.

Harry's new home had been even been decorated by someone else, well at the most basic level of plain white walls, grey carpet, and a small assortment of kitchen ware and food were provided, but obviously whoever had handled the place did not have much of an idea of what went into a muggle home. There was no electronics, and he should likely be thankful that the loft was all inclusive in the rent (paid a year ahead), or he would likely not have any electricity or utilities either.

Harry didn't mind though, now that he was officially let loose into his new identity and new home, he was free to do as he pleased provided that he lived like any other wizard in a muggle environment (i.e, statue of secrecy) and didn't shout his old identity from the roof tops or return to the Wizarding World, he could do as he pleased, and with an extensive inheritance from both the Potters and the Blacks as well as a few donations from grateful childless families that had willed the Boy-who-lived there own fortunes in gratitude for smiting Voldemort as a baby, he was quite well off really, especially after it was all converted into muggle money and spread out among a few banks and investments. He would never need to work a day in his life if he didn't want to.

Not that planned to remain idle. He was not reared like that. But in the meanwhile, while he figured out what exactly he was to do for the rest of his life, he was going to explore this new life a bit, which starts with setting up his new home and getting some bloody cloths, and find out who the man he saw in the mirror every morning, the stranger known as Harrison T. Salt really was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These few chaps will be setting Harry up in his new life before anything major happens SG1wise.

Harrison T. Salt was born three months ago in the beginning of summer while Harry James Potter stood before a frowning goblin and requested the Goblin Nation’s services to disappear.

Within a week of this request, he was given a cot in one of his vaults, and he was informed of his new name, chosen randomly from a list of mineral deposits that the goblins mined, with his first name a variation of his old one, since it was common enough that it wouldn’t go noticed over much if he was called Harry or Harrison. The “T” was a private joke that Harry kept to himself, and the only concession the goblins were willing to make when forming his new name. As soon as he was informed, he was thereafter referred only as Mr. Salt in his dealings with the goblins.

A month after that and Harrison, call me Harry for short, Salt would look in the mirror and see his face for the first time, complete after the last dark potion and ritual molded his recognizable flesh into something considerably less so.

Staring back at him was a young man of 17 years of age, a legal wizard adult no longer encumbered by the magical trace of youth. His skin was the same golden brown of his old self, as were the intense green of his eyes, but these eyes were larger and vaguely almond shaped, able to be properly employed without the encumbrance of old round spectacles, looking less like an owl and more like a mature, svelte young man, helped along by his face being manipulated to have higher cheekbones, more pointed chin, and a straighter nose with slightly thicker, arched eye brows. His hair was lengthened and darkened from chestnut cowlicks, to riotous pitch black curls.

His body was stretched a little thin from his magically induced growth spurt due to his artificial aging, but he was pleased to note he was a respectable 5 ‘7 instead of the pipsqueak size he had been previously; even his teeth where different, straighter, whiter, and his canines a smidge sharper, likely the goblin aesthetic influencing the spell work.

Harrison T. Salt was rather pleased with his face.

A month later, he meant a wand maker from Japan who was sworn to secrecy magically, and was outfitted with a new wand, his previous one long ago taken from him. Harry’s wand was a 12 inch cherry wood with the whisker of a sea serpent for a magical core and a drop of his own blood. The fit was perfect and while Potter’s wand would be missed, he came to enjoy the sheer freedom that his new wand gave him as he was able to cast spells for the first time in under 2 months and the knowledge that he could do so whenever he wanted without worry about a ministry letter pleased him greatly.

Not long after that, Harry was whisked away to his new apartment and new life. And while he had regrets, none of them were the choice he had made to become who he was now, even if he was still a bit unsure who that person would end up becoming.

ooo ooo ooo

3 months and one day later from his birth, Harrison T. Salt stood in front of his first store, about to shop for the first of many of his very own things bought with his very own money.

The sign read:

_Finky’s-Making You Fabulous!_

Potter had never cared about fashion, but Salt, without the restrictions of a hateful group of caretakers, if you could call them that even, or the restrictions of a school uniform, was curious about what the store had to offer. He did need cloths after all, and he didn’t really have any notion on how to look good in cloths, so seeing if the sign actually lived up to its hype, he opened the door which gave a jaunty jingle, and a rather amazingly put together woman in tight red halter top and bell bottom jeans with swirls of gold trailing along the pant legs, her auburn hair pulled into a high pony tail with lots of beads and a flash of tattooed belly, descended on him.

Her name was Trudy, and when the buxom red head heard his awkward rambles for assistance in creating an entire wardrobe for him, and the fact that Trudy thought that the customer was drop dead gorgeous, as well as rich and needy of fashion advice, made it all the more easier for her to take the beautiful youth under her wing and pile him high with clothing after clothing. Until Harry was bedecked in a completely new outfit of dark green shimmery silky sleeveless top, a thin cotton cardigan tied casually around his waist, and a set of pants similar to her own, except black with swirls of green.

She finished the look, on a whim, with a black Indiana Jones fedora she grabbed from a display mannequin, pulled his hair into a green scrunchie and handed him the address to a respectable tattoo and piercing store.

 _The Swiss Cheese_ was a small, though clean tattoo and piercing parlor, run by the second cousin of Trudy, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Miss. Marble was sporting more paint and a Mohawk, he would have thought he was speaking to the same woman.

She was also less talkative then her cousin, grunting “What do you want?” with Harry replying “a piercing in each ear please, on the lobe,” feeling rather daring, and the women grunting “chair” where he sat and was quickly pierced, then Harry paid, was shoved a pamphlet on how to take care of his new piercings, and left the parlor sporting a pair of green scull studs, having left it to the woman to decide for him.

Harry found he rather liked the earrings, even if they were skulls, and made a mental note to cast that minor healing spell he had learned while with the goblins when he got home.

Harry wandered through store after store in Colorado Spring’s downtown core, finding this and that. Knick-knacks that appealed to him, electronics, new furniture, kitche linens and so on.

By the time he was done, it was supper and he had just finished grocery shopping in a small store not far from his building, and trudged home. Using his newly activated cell phone to order himself a pizza from the phone book. His first bite, and Salt found that he enjoyed pizza and orange pop, a new regular staple that was soon added to his diet.

He unpacked his things, un-shrinking them (he did have a lot of things after all and he was taking the bus) setting things up, leaving his new entertainment center and his shelves for the next day to set up, falling into his new bed (the older furniture mostly shrunk and put away in a box to donate to a local salvation army store) and pulled up a set of bright butterfly sheets to his chin and fell into a deep sleep.

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry stared at the window display, his nose pressed against the glass among a crowd of small children who were similarly plastered against the glass with expressions of awe.

Harry had a closely guarded secret that no one knew.

Harry loved snakes.

Yes, that’s right, the once epitome Lion loved snakes. At least, the actual reptilian variety and not the people variety.

Ever since he had been in the zoo and talked to that Boa Constrictor, he had been fascinated by them. The idea that he could talk to them had made him feel special for the first time ever, but until his second year when he had found out that it wasn’t a common gift, and was in fact meant with fear by others, even his friends, he had kept that little fact to himself and had not dared tried to speak to snakes since, for fear of rejection should he reopen that can of worms again.

Now though, now that he was Harrison T. Salt, without anyone to care either way if he liked snakes or not in a world where no one would think him odd for having a pet snake, he suddenly came to the realization, as he stood in front of the display window of a recently opened exotic reptile store, that he could have one if he wanted to.

Delighted by this realization, he straightened his hat and marched inside, coming out fifteen minutes later with a bulging bag of supplies and a beautiful rainbow python wrapped around his neck.

His new companion, whom he had dubbed later as Potato, in honor of the snake's proclivity for the roasted balls of potato he’d had for supper that evening, liked commenting on everything from the food, to the view, to the shows Harry watched on television or the pictures from the comic books Harry read.

Potato was a relatively young snake, having yet to grow into his full 4-6 feet length. At present he was old enough to wrap around his neck once loosely.

Harry’s loft had two extra bedrooms, currently bare. He converted one into the necessary habitat for the snake and loosed some mice into the place, sending the snake to slither after his prey delightedly with hisses of _:Here scurry thing, here scurry thing! Come wriggle down Potato’s throat!:_

Harry chuckled and retired to his new sitting room, and settled in for a Robocop marathon.

Life was good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parseltounge _:Worship Potato!:_  
>  Regular speech "Dude, I will not!"  
> Thoughts 'My snake watches to much Game of Thrones.'  
> Other Languages **“Wait! Not my precious snowglobes!”**  
>  Voldemort Connection _'I blame you for this'_

:Wake up: *Poke*

“Glurg, shneer…”

 _:Up! Potato is hungry! Up:_ *Poke!*

“Glah...10 more minutes Ron…”

 _:I have no idea what you’re saying but if it isn’t about Potato’s food, then Potato will bite his human:_ *Poke! Poke!*

“Mmmm…yes I would like pie with that... *snore*.”

 _:Potato warned you:_ *CHOMP!*

“YOWCH! GLAH!”

_:Good, you’re up, then you can make Potato’s breakfast.:_

With that cheerful wake up, Harry’s snaky roommate slithered happily to the kitchen, leaving Harry to glare after the reptile blurrily, grabbing his wand and casting a healing spell on the bite. It wasn’t the first time, and Harry mused likely not the last. He supposed that he was lucky Potato wasn’t venomous.

Once Harry was done going through his morning routine, he strolled in the kitchen and began making scrambled eggs and hash browns, the breakfast that both snake and human agreed was the only way to start their morning.

As Potato curled up with his own plate of vittles, Harry pulled out a few pamphlets he had picked up at an information center downtown the other day. They touted all the various activities he could do in Colorado Springs, such as hiking, white water rafting, going to watch Olympic athletes train, museums and so forth.

He had to admit that there was certainly a lot he could do while he was figuring his new life out.

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry groaned as he took a seat on a nearby boulder, taking a long draw on his water bottle.

“Should have gone rafting,” he moaned into the plastic bottle, “why did I want to do this again? I am never hiking again.”

Harry quickly renewed his cooling charm, moaning in relief and surveyed his surroundings as he rubbed his sore knees.

He had to admit that the sharp rocky terrain of rusty reds and rich umber, the tall statuesque trees that hugged clear streams and rivers, and the wide blue sky over it all, was rather breath taking.

He had taken more pictures with his new camera then he knew what to do with, and the air was sweet and clear. It wasn’t a wasted trip, just an exhausting one. He perhaps should have chosen an easier trail.

Clasping the thick branch he was using as a walking stick, he got back to his feet, deciding he’d had enough of nature for now; and was considering maybe picking up some Micky D’s on the way home as he picked hsi way down one of the many exhaustive hiking trails, when he heard a yell on the other side of an outcropping of rocks.

Harry started, surprised. He had not seen any other hikers on the trail he had chosen, but it sounded like someone needed help, so Harry, who carried his saving people thing into his new identity it turns out, careened around the corner of the rocks, no thought at all for what might lay ahead except that someone needed help.

What he found was a man, rather small, with a shaved head, round glasses and dressed in khaki with a white sun hat dangling from its string around his neck. He looked like a younger side of thirty or an older twenty something, and a definite desk jockey.

The poor fellow looked to have his foot caught in a hole, but it was the rather pissed off rattler that was hissing threats and cuss words at the unfortunate man that appeared to be his main problem.

Harry carefully came into view, edging around the perimeter of the little tableau until he was standing relatively in front of the prone man who looked to be terrified out of his wits.

He locked eyes with the snake and waited patiently.

It didn’t take long for the snake to stop hissing death threats and taste the air more closely around the newest intruder. Once she did, the rattler hissed again, making sure that Harry was informed of her grievances, before slithering off when Harry didn’t move, showing through his posture and calm, if not so much in his words, that the two legs that had nearly stepped on her would not be hers today.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. During his time with the goblins, he had been provided extensive reading material on Parseltounges, and learned about the innate ability to attract and calm serpents was a benefit buried deep within a speaker’s aura, thus he could project a certain amount of allure without having to even say anything in the snake language. Speakers were revered in the very genes of a snake and would not attack them (the exception being insane serpents like the basilisk from his second year).

“You…you just stared down a rattlesnake!” the older man exclaimed as Harry calmly set about helping the man get his foot unstuck from the hole and helped him to hobble his way to a nearby rock to sit and catch his breath while Harry whipped out a first aid kit and began examining the foot.

“You could say I’m good with snakes,” Harry replied vaguely, “you okay?”

The man nodded, a little too quickly for Harry’s tastes, “yeah, yeah I think so. I was just outside getting some exercise, the Commander suggested this trail as a way to stretch my legs,” the man reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his face, “he didn’t say anything about giant potholes and snakes! I could have died!”

“Probably, rattlesnakes are poisonous after all,” Harry agreed, humming in thought as he looked at the decidedly swollen ankle, the man squeaking in dismay at Harry’s unruffled agreement.

As Harry wrapped the ankle after cutting away the expensive boot, ignoring the man’s bemoaning, and distracted the man by engaging him in small talk

“So, the name’s Harrison Salt, just call me Harry,” he introduced.

“I’m Chief Master Sargent Walter Harriman,” the man mumbled, “just call me Walter.”

“Ah, army boy are you? Do you work at one of the nearby bases then?”

“Air-force actually, and yeah, I’m just on a weekend leave.”

Harry continued to chatter about inconsequential things until he had the ankle wrapped and the man had caught his wind and was much calmer.

After that, Harry slung an arm over his neck and began the long process in getting them off the trail and to the closest bit of civilization.

Apparently Wlater had been dropped off by a fellow soldier and had originally planned to take the bus back into town.

Harry himself had taken the bus in, but the two lucked out when they stumbled across a group of teenagers partying at a nearby quarry who were willing to take them to the hospital to get the chief master checked out.

It was late by the time the two had stumbled out of the hospital, and Walter didn’t put up more than a token effort against Harry’s offer to stay at his place since it was closer then Walter’s house all the way on the other side of town.

After they arrived by taxi and had his new guest situated with a pizza and a documentary on Lemurs on the telly, he quickly took Potato aside and told the snake to remain out of sight while the man was staying. Potato was of the opinion that it was silly to be afraid of something as beautiful as he, but had agreed when Harry offered to create mice out of mash potato and send them running through his habitat.

When he came out, he found that Walter had fallen asleep on the couch, his foot currently in a cast (he’d actually sustained a minor fracture) a slice of pepperoni and cheese resting part way on his chest.

Harry chuckled and cleared away the pizza, storing it away for later, tucking spindly limbs into correct positions, and settled a light purple blanket over the man, tucking him in and turning off the television, going to bed himself.

Ooo ooo ooo

When Walter awoke the next morning it was to the wonderful smells of freshly brewed tea, sizzling bacon and cheese omelets.

Harry helped the man to the table, who blushed when he realized that he had been changed into a set of pajamas (to out of it to remember Harry helping him into his spare set the night previous), but manfully mumbled his thanks for breakfast and dug into the surprisingly good repast.

When he was done, Harry set a glass vial in front of the soldier, Walter eyeing it suspiciously. It was a dark, muddy brown and when he pulled the top out of it at his host’s encouragement, it smelled like the change room after a mission back at SGC. He grimaced, “what’s this?” he asked with a wrinkled nose.

Harry chuckled, “it’s an all-natural pain reliever, it looks, smells, and tastes horrible, but the stuff works great and doesn’t make you dopey the way that stuff from the hospital would. Its effects will last for the next 12 hours or so.”

Walter eyed the sludge warily, but the youth had rescued him and had treated him well, helping him out, he didn’t think there was anything to worry about from Harry. At Harry’s calm encouragement Walter finally tossed back the vial, then dropped the glass to the table and shuttered in distaste.

“Oh my god that’s vile!” he gasped, gratefully taking the cup of water offered, tossing it back, then gasped in surprise when the pain just seemed to melt from him and he in turn melted into the table in surprised relief, “oh my god this stuff is amazing!”

Harry chuckled and set about doing the dishes. When he was done and Walter was trying out his crutches, Walter felt it was nearing time to go. He took the offered shower and extra set of cloths, his own tucked into a bag.

Harry offered him a few more vials of the disgusting stuff from heaven in a paper bag and the rest of the pizza and some sandwiches wrapped plastic and put in a spare messenger bag. He carried the parcel down as he ushered Walter to the waiting land rover where a burly soldier was waiting.

Harry was still waving when they had turned the corner and were out of sight. Sighing Harry went back inside to make more magical mashed potato mice for his snake and some more pain potion (one of the few potions he could make while in the muggle world) to fill out his stock since he had given the lot to Walter.

As he casually tossed this and that ingredient into a large Pewter cauldron, he had to admit, it had been nice having someone around.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! in honor of the month of HP's birthday and a boon of free time outside of work and writing reviews for film and television (check it out if interested, [screensquinty.wordpress.com](https://screensquinty.wordpress.com/)) so i am doing an updating blitz this month of a bunch of my HP stories, enjoy!

Parseltounge _:Worship Potato!:_  
Regular speech "Dude, I will not!"  
Thoughts 'My snake watches to much Game of Thrones.'  
Other Languages **“Wait! Not my precious snowglobes!”**  
Voldemort Connection _'I blame you for this'_

 

Harry had decided to catch a game of football (or soccer as they called it in America for some reason) at a local college. He drank big containers of soda and ate large tubs of hot dogs, popcorn, and nachos, and had fun cheering for the home team (though he wasn't familiar with any of the players), he also had a pint or two of the muggle variety of beer which he didn’t like as much as butter beer, then some sort of red juice that he liked very much that turned out to be spiked with a rather generous helping of rum… yeah, things were fun and fuzzy for quite some time afterwards as Harry had gotten caught up in a drunken rabble of local teens and young twenty somethings as they had painted the town red, flush with home team victory.

When he had come to it was to find another boy his age draped over him, his jacket over the both of them cuddling in the living room of some frat house Harry didn't remember going to with a bunch of other zonked youths.

Harry’s shirt was loose and he smelled like an ash tray despite the fact that he was pretty sure that he had never touched a cigarette, and his tongue tasted like the bottom of one, he grimaced.

He extracted himself from the strange male’s hold and looked down at his unintentional bed partner who was boyishly beach bunny handsome, with tanned skin, impressive abs, and bleached blond hair.

Harry had no idea who he was, but the way that the other had been holding him, and the vague memories of groping hands and sloppy kisses that filtered through his impressive hangover, denoted the fact that they had certainly gotten familiar with each other in at least some regard.

Harry’s head was pounding too hard to let this revelation of achieving some sort of second, or even third base milestone impact him significantly at the present moment and just busied himself with stumbling out of the large house, catching the first bus he found, the bus driver rolling his eyes muttering “kids these days” under his breath, and getting home to his nice warm shower and heavy curtains.

When he had gotten home and taken an Anti-Hangover potion, he felt much better and much more sober. He made his way into the shower, peeling off last night’s attire, and groaned in enjoyment as the warm water beat down on his party pooped body.

When he got out, he fed himself and his snake, and finally took a moment with his bowl of HagenDazs Rocky Road in front of the television to consider what had happened.

He had made out with someone, heatedly, and after a bit more memory prodding realized that he had rather enjoyed it to. The stranger himself had also been rather fit, and after a bit of thought, determined that he wouldn’t mind a repeat, less drunk, performance.

Harry shrugged off the drunken encounter, turned his attention to the telly and amused himself with a Three Stooges Rerun.

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry stared.

He had to admit, this was the last thing he expected to ever get in the mail, though given the fact that Voldemort was currently at large, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the noseless bastard had sent something like it as a house warming gift, if the Dark Lord knew where he was of course, which he didn’t thankfully.

 _:What is it? is it a treat for Potato?:_ Potato asked curiously, looking from his perch on Harry’s shoulder where he had situated himself while Harry had opened the first of his mail he had ever received in this new place.

It wasn’t much at first really, a letter from Walter with gossip about a few of his fellow officers (the two had exchanged addresses when Harry expressed his lack of email, nearly sending the poor computer whiz into a mild conniptions), an envelope containing a newsletter about the local community, a flyer for a mattress sale, and a package that he had to sign for.

Without looking at the address, Harry had excitedly ripped into the package, thinking it was his Downtown Abby box set, but he had been disappointed and…well, not horrified, but rather bemused perhaps? At what the contents were.

Potato hissed in distaste, _:If it is, it is much to old-dead for Potato’s liking:_ the snake sniffed.

Harry patted the snakes head and replied dryly, _:I don’t think a shrunken head is fit for consumption...A magical bus ornament perhaps._ :

Harry gingerly picked up the box still holding the vacuum sealed…artifact, and managed to find the address.

He groaned when he realized that it was addressed to a Dr. Daniel Jackson in 1006, the apartment across from his door.

‘Whoops,’ he muttered internally, ‘but what sort of bloke orders a shrunken head in the mail anyway…except for those like Snape or Voldie…maybe Malfoy as a gag gift for Christmas or something…it does say “Dr.” maybe it’s something um…medicine related?’

Muttering to himself about his “Downtown Abby never getting here” Harry went out into the hallway of his apartment and knocked on 1006.

There was silence.

Harry knocked again, only louder.

A shuffle, a curse, the sound of a falling object, perhaps body sized, and a pained exclamation, then a few minutes later, the door cracked open to reveal large hazy bright robin’s egg blue eyes behind askew glasses.

“Um yes?” the man asked tiredly.

“Hi,” Harry chirped, “I’m your neighbor from across the way, Harrison Salt. I just moved in a month ago?”

“Oh? uh sorry,” the man apologized, slightly more awake now that the conversation was going on, “I just got back from a 5 week expedition, I haven't had the chance to sort myself out yet, why don’t you come in?”

Harry stepped into the messy apartment and raised his eyebrows. The place looked like a cross between Dumbledoe’s headmaster office, Snape’s Potions office, and a Hermione wet dream of an office.

There were books, dust, artifacts, preserved things, art stuffed into every corner and covering every surface in teetering piles…good grief!

“Uh, anyway,” Harry continued, manfully ignoring what looked suspiciously like a hand of glory under a glass jar behind a box of donuts, “the reason I knocked was because it appears there might have been a mix up with delivery. I was expecting a package and I’m afraid I might have opened it, sorry about that, I hope its uh, still good.”

Dr. Jackson took the opened package and viewed the contents, seeming to wake up fully now.

“Oh! its something for a paper I am working on, sent by a colleague of mine from Peru, thank you!”

Harry held up his hand, “no problem,” he said dryly, “not every day you find a head in the mail, breaks up the monotony of the mornings if you ask me.”

Daniel chuckled at his neighbor's expression and invited the young man in for some tea.

Harry squeezed in between an overflowing pile of archeology magazines and cracked leather tomes on a surprisingly comfortable faded brown chair, while Daniel settled in across from him on a couch that was the largest uncluttered surface going, with a blanket thrown haphazardly to the side.

“Live as you work?” Harry asked, humming in pleasure as the orange Pekoe settled in. The man knew how to make a great cuppa!

“In a matter of speaking,” the man said dryly, “I’m an archeologist and linguist. I do consultation work for the Military at one of the nearby bases as well as write articles and attend guest lectures from time to time.”

“Sounds full,” Harry replied with a wistful sigh, “me, I hardly have anything to do. Wake up, feed Potato, find something to do in town, read a bit, go to bed…sort of a lather, rinse, repeat scenario really, its great at first, but after awhile you begin to run out of things to do.”

Daniel was surprised by that, “I thought it was already September? School's already started hasn’t it?”

Harry was amused that the man had to check the near by calendar, which was, of course, still sitting in August…of last year.

“It is, September 4th to be exact, but I’m no longer in school I graduated a few months ago in an…accelerated program.”

Harry chuckled to himself, thinking ‘if accelerated means going through a dark ritual to have my memory magically modified temporarily so that I could remember and comprehend every single thing I came across for my entire month of prep by sitting down with my head in a Pensive with years worth of fast-forwarded memories of all the chosen classes (some by by me, but mostly chosen by others) before my freedom then yes, accelerated.’

Daniel raised an eyebrow, “Oh? if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

This wasn’t the first time he had been asked. Walter had asked him the same thing in their letters.

“I’m 17 years old and I live on my own. My parents are both dead, and I was sent into foster care for a time. I bounced from house to house, never really got on with some, or were indifferent to others, and when I came of age, I was informed that I had a hefty inheritance that a blood relative left me, after his lawyer tracked me down anyway. Enough to live on for a long time, so I decided on a fresh start and moved here,” Harry recited the back story that had been created for him.

Daniel’s eyes softened in sympathy, “I’m sorry to hear about your loss, I lost my parents when I was a kid to, they were killed in an accident at the New York Museum of Art, and I was also put into foster care, though I was fortunate that they were descent folk.”

The two chatted for a bit about their childhoods, then about Harry’s time so far in Colorado Springs, and Harry introduced Daniel to Potato, who had dozed off out of boredom under Harry’s shirt, and Daniel seemed rather fascinated By Harry’s easy handling of the snake.

Eventually the two parted ways and Harry invited Daniel over the next evening for popcorn and Jurassic Park, which he hadn’t seen but had heard was good. Daniel had been gobsmacked that Harry hadn’t seen one of his favorite films and said he would be there with the firm determination.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parseltounge _:Worship Potato!:_  
>  Regular speech "Dude, I will not!"  
> Thoughts 'My snake watches to much Game of Thrones.'  
> Other Languages **“Wait! Not my precious snowglobes!”**  
>  Voldemort Connection _'I blame you for this'_

Over the next few weeks, the tentative friendship between Harry and Daniel grew.

Whenever Daniel wasn’t on base, he would find himself sitting on Harry’s couch, watching movies and television shows, while the two shared popcorn or fondue, or Daniel would be caught up in one of Harry’s more physical adventures and would find himself strapped in nervously beside Harry as they hang-glided, rode the White Water rapids, bickered over rides at midways, or Daniel patiently guiding Harry through the basics of figure skating at a local rink.

He’d even discovered that they had a mutual acquaintance in Walter when he had attended a poker night at Walter’s with a few other soldiers and locals and found his neighbor across from him with a bowl of guacamole, and a shit eating grin as he took the group for all they were worth.

When he had asked Walter about it later on at SGC, the man had told him in an almost awed sort of voice about how Harry and he had first meant. The fact that Harry had cared for a near perfect stranger in his own home, and had faced down a poisonous snake, somehow didn’t surprise him, from what he was coming to learn about his new friend. Harry was an interesting combination of reckless exuberance and nurturing care, a very kind young man who, while a bit of a thrill junky and a spotty past, had nevertheless shown Daniel he was a good person.

It was because of this that Daniel wanted to see his young friend get a chance to do something more than just hang around doing odds and ends without any seeming direction in his life. There was something about him that reminded him of the young men from his home on Abydos. An eagerness to be something more then what they are, but in Harry’s case, didn’t have anyone to give him the guidance.

Daniel wanted to be that for him. Harry had dragged him out of his seclusion since the death of his wife, and had made him live a little, he felt that he owed his friend something in return, but he didn’t know how exactly to go about it. Jack always had a better knack with kids and youths then Daniel. Only the fact that Harry didn’t act like a normal teenager at all was how the two got along so well, but he had no idea how to approach him on the matter of guidance, because Harry didn’t seem to have any drive to go to college, or join the military or anything like that, from the few times that discussion had ventured down the territory of his future.

Then one day while Daniel was taking a shower, Harry waiting for him out in the living room, the youth came across something laying on the coffee table, and suddenly his dilemma ended up solving itself in a shocking way.

Daniel came out of the bathroom in his favorite to large sweats, still rubbing his sandy brown hair dry, about to ask Harry if he wanted to order out again tonight before diving into their Cary Grant Marathon only to pause when he found Harry deeply engrossed in one of the pictures taken from his off-world mission to Ernest’s planet, a very classified photo at that.

Luckily for Daniel it was of one of the four languages found engraved on a wall, and nothing more otherworldly, resembling something from a dig site more then anything. Daniel was about to distract the youth away from the classified material, mentally cursing his own stupidity for leaving them out, when he noticed the boy’s mouth moving, and his hand idly tracing some of the symbols on the table top.

Was he…was he…reading it? No, of course not! That was impossible…

“Hey Harry,” Daniel called out in forced idleness, rousing the boy from his focus, and the youth blushed, hastily setting it down and apologizing, “Sorry about that mate, didn’t mean to pry, but it was just sitting there, and I couldn’t help recognizing the symbols…”

Daniel blinked and asked doubtfully, “Recognize?”

“Well, uh, yeah,” Harry scratched the back of his head nervously, “Erm, yeah...”

Harry huffed at Daniel's disbelieving look, holding the picture in his hand up and slowly began to recite.

"...And the four great Races in the Galaxy united in a summit, sharing their counsel with one another..."

Daniel’s mouth dropped open. Months of painstakingly going through the various runic dialects, many of them very obscure, for just one of the languages, and he had only managed to decipher a quarter of it!

“How?" Daniel squeaked, "Wha..?".

Harry, sensing something off tried to back track “Oh, um, er...” Harry shrugged helplessly, "I'm...good with words?'.

Internally Harry cursed his inability to lie well to those he likes, and grumbled yet again, putting the blame for this sudden awkward situation entirly at the goblin's feet.

_Flashback..._

Harry Salt was currently lying back on a reclined platform unconscious with his entire head encased in an ebony stoned helmet filled with a misty substance.

"What was it again that this bloke was supposed to learn? French? Latin? Runes? I know its some sort of language we'refast-learn dumping into the human, but I can't make spleens or livers out of the head goblin's penmanship, you?" addressed a young junior goblin named Rucksack to the other junior goblin, Mixsplat. The two younger goblins were covering for the head of Information, who was currently out sick. Unfortunately their superior was one of the few goblins in there department who could understand their vaunted superior's work orders and memos.

Mixsplat grunted in annoyance, tossing the work order aside and grumbled, "We'll just dump everything we have in the language and linguistics section, humans don't have much in there skulls anyway, not like we're doing him a hardship.

The goblins did just that. It took a bloody long time to, and the two junior goblins were frankly looking forward to their lunch after a solid hour of dumping thousands of different languages into the little human's soft skull, and left him to marinate.

When Harry came out of it, it was a week later then they had told him it would take to quickly absorb the information, and indeed didn't notice anything odd accept a lingering headache. And had thus been fine when he had been informed of the negligence by the head goblin himself, and when he displayed no side-effects, such as becoming a permanent vegetable from information overload, it wasn't brought up again.

_....Flashback ends._

Harry quickly shrugged it off and changed the subject. He didn’t consider it a big deal, but Daniel seemed especially excited by it for whatever reason, though he did specialize in ancient languages so he supposed it made some sort of sense. Thus when Daniel had dived for his voice recorder, and asked him to read the picture, not looking to be swayed, Harry sighed and decided to humor him in the hopes that his friend would forget about it sooner or later after the spectacle of it wore off before forcing the man to what was more important. Cheese pizza and the Grant man.

It didn't go like he had hoped.

Over the next few days during their time together, Daniel would randomly test him with a few more pictures, then some books, some dusty scrolls, and so forth. Then Daniel had begun veering away from runes and asked him to read other things.

Harry would sometimes be dragged into these discussions for hours, his voice becoming horse from overuse, and during that time it occurred to him that the goblins really had fudged him over more then he had thought after all and mentally cursed the lazy money grubbers as he found himself spouting random Mesopotamian dirty limericks.

Daniel meanwhile, with growing excitement, had charted at least 12 dead languages and 5 current ones that came out of Harry’s gob over the past few days without any trouble whatsoever.

There was a limit however. Daniel had pushed Harry a bit longer and with more then twice the amount of different language samples one day. Harry had just wanted to go out with Daniel to the Farmer's Market where they were to meet Walter later for supper, and had tried to remind the excited doctor that they were going to miss what they had planned, but after hours and hours of talking in so many different languages for so long, the reminder had come out in an unintelligible garbled mix of Yiddish and Mermish before Harry suddenly, and dramatically, passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shorty.
> 
> Parseltounge _:Worship Potato!:_  
>  Regular speech "Dude, I will not!"  
> Thoughts 'My snake watches to much Game of Thrones.'  
> Other Languages **“Wait! Not my precious snowglobes!”**  
>  Voldemort Connection _'I blame you for this'_

Dr. Janet Frasier was glad to be home, finally after a long hard day dealing with an outbreak of some sort of flu SG:7 had caught from some planet, and half of SG:10 with varying injuries when they stumbled upon a group of rather aggressive locals on another planet, she was able to enjoy a good long break. 

Janet sighed contentedly as she slid under the covers after a quick warm shower, and was just about to fall asleep when her phone by her bed began to ring.

Janet seriously contemplated letting it roll over to her voice mail, but when the phone clicked after the third ring and began to ring again, she groaned, rolled over and picked up the receiver barking "What?!"

"Janet! I think I broke him!...Fix him! Fix him now!"

The nonsensical panicked ramble was Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Janet rubbed the bridge of her nose and silently mourned her comfy pillow before she switched to business mode, "Alright Daniel, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened and where are you?"

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry woke up the next day in the hospital, much to his horror.

In between his struggles to escape with the exasperated doctor and nursing staff, He’d been informed that he had been diagnosed with Syncope, which he had been told is a sudden and temporary loss of consciousness, commonly referred to as fainting or passing out. It can be caused by emotional stress, pain, sudden changes in body position, overheating, dehydration, low blood sugar, or exhaustion.

Daniel had felt so guilty that he had pushed Harry so hard in his excitement at the incredible find of Harry's rather unbelievable talent (he'd had Janet confirm discreetly that yes, Harry Salt was indeed human) and because of his actions his new friend had passed out from the stress to his mind. He had felt even worse when Harry had just patted him on the back and told him to think nothing of it, and hadn't argued with Harry when the young man had Daniel distract the staff while he shimmied out a third story window to freedom, not that he had gotten far, Dr. Frasier had happened to be having a smoke break under said window at the time and had meandered back inside with the protesting Harry slung over a shoulder in an easy fireman's carry.

Harry meanwhile was forced to think up a better excuse for his so called talent then simple school lessons, but the only thing he could think of was “hey what can I say? I have a knack for languages.”

Daniel had actually given him the better excuse of calling him some sort of linguistically gifted savant or something, and Dr. Frasier had come in with the more disturbing news that he was using significantly more brain power then was ascribed in the regular human, which had made him sweat nervously. Though nothing fortunately came out from that bit of news except even more tests and some fondling of his cat scans by the med students.

When Daniel finally took him home after being released from the hospital, and he was greeted by an overenthusiastic Potato, he had proposed an idea to Harry. A proposal that would set him towards something other then hanging out and wandering aimlessly form one thing to the next.

Daniel wanted Harry to be his apprentice.

He would help Harry fine tune his “incredible gift” as he called it, helping with his continued education and any sort of application to college of his choice.

Much to Harry’s bemusement, apparently his 'gift' could get him quite a few important and cushy positions, not that he really wanted them, but Daniel looked so eager, and Walter had been giving him puppy dog eyes from behind Daniel's back, so he reluctantly agreed give it a few days to think the offer over.

Harry had to admit the practical side of using his talents in academia sounded interesting, Daniel was always going on about how exciting some of his expeditions where, and the idea of traveling around the world and hunting down relics, unearthing mysterious lost civilizations (avoiding the UK of course) did sound fascinating.

The catch with this job Daniel was offering, was that he would be required to work at the super secret military base where Daniel and Walter worked at. Neither of the men had never really went into detail about what they did. He was not overly sure if working for the military was the brightest idea, but after giving Daniel's offer thought, he had to admit, that if the Wizarding World did manage to track him down, using the muggle military base as a hiding spot was an added layer of protection. Not many wizards would consider that their beloved boy-who-lived would be in anyway involved with muggle military of all things, especially secret ones.

Besides, he was getting bored.

A week after the offer had been made, while the two of them were enjoying a cold one in front of the television watching _Antiques Roadshow_ , Harry had non-nonchalantly informed his friend that he accepted his offer.

Ooo ooo ooo

_3 days later, after Harry was cleared..._

The first thing Harry uttered after he had been shown the Stargate by Daniel and had been given the gist that muggles had discovered a secret on par with Earth's other greatest secret of magic being real, had been along the lines of "Merlin's great hairy ballsack!" Harry had then followed up with a faint "I need a chair."

Harry had been lead to a conference room which had an excellent view of said Stargate. Daniel had scampered to find him something to drink, something hard, had been his polite request.

When he was alone, Harry had quietly smacked his head on the shiny conference table muttering cusswords with increasing lewdness in various languages into the varnished surface.

'Just my luck,' Harry thought despondently, 'I go through all that trouble to get out of one world shattering secret organization, and what do I do? I fall into its Science fiction counterpart!'

"Harry?!" came a familiar voice from the door.

Harry turned raised his head, and saw Walter standing there looking delighted, and Harry belatedly realized that he hadn't mentioned to Walter yet that he had accepted the offer.

Harry's voice was muffled as his head returned to his previous position, "I can't believe that out of the all the potential friends I make, most end up being part of an alien conspiracy."

"Most of them, yeah," Walter replied, adjusting his glasses and taking a seat beside Harry, "most of the troop during poker night are in on it to."

Harry groaned again.

Walter then asked excitedly, "So have you witnessed Dr. Jackson being attacked by an alien yet?!"

"Wait...What?! is that an every day thing around here?! blokes randomly being accosted by space creatures?!" Harry gaped, then grabbed his buttocks reflexively, a la Dudley, "their not the probing kind are they?!"

"Oh...I don't think so, at least not so far?" Walter replied, scratching the back of his head.

Harry was not reassured by the significant pause before that reply nor the questioning lilt to the end.

"Brilliant," Harry groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Janet! I broke him! Fix him! Fix him now!" line is from Pashiradoki_83


End file.
